By Moonlight
by candycanepower
Summary: Pitch was defeated and was sent away, or so we think. He managed to find himself a powerful set of allies from the cold depths of hell. The Seven Deadly Sins have been sealed for centuries, but now they are being freed to wreak havoc on the earth. These seven maleficent spirits are planning to go beyond Pitch's prior failures. They plan to make nightmares become reality.


**Extended description:** Ever wonder about the dark ages in humanity? The several holocausts in the world, the world wars, the bubonic plague? With history on hand, I decided to tie it with the RoTG universe and make it so that it was due to the menacing Deadly Sins. There are good spirits and there are _bad_ spirits, and in my honest opinion, Pitch and his embodiment of _fear_ is not just enough. This is a story of a typical good vs. evil but it kind of glosses over juust a little bit more than that.

Please give me some feedback to help me improve down the storyline! I'd much appreciate it because it gives me the will to fight through these finals ugh.

**Warning:** Going to be a lootta historical and biblical references. Most of the allusions will hint it but not all of them are true. I also plan to introduce some OCs andd some of the characters from the book (aka Pitch's daughter) so that the story will make sense. I'll manipulate some of the story's details... but I'll try to stay true to it and the movie. Enjoy!

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**Eve**

Pitch watched as his plan crumbled before his very eyes; it fell apart, grain by grain. His breath shortened, arms trembled as he took a couple of steps back before he stumbled on a rock. When his palms touched the soil of the earth, the adrenaline heightened. There was nowhere to run. The dark orbs of his eyes were shrouded by the essence that created him—they were filled with _fear._

"N-No, this can't be happening." He fretted as his fingers curled up, gripping the grains of soil that provided no consideration of protecting him. All he could do was damn them, damn each and every one of them—all of them.

One his feet now, Pitch looked around to see that he was cornered by these disgusting 'benevolent' spirits. If he was going down, at least he wanted to bluff his way until the very end. There a familiar sound of a snort from the distance and almost immediately, a cruel smirk formed on his face.

The ebony steeds appeared between the trees in their wispy grace, aggressive, and ready to act upon his disposal. They snorted, stomping on the earth, grinding their hooves against the soil impatiently.

Pitch let out a sinister laugh after seeing their presence. He opened his arms and raised his chin high. "Looks like you're outnumbered."

Yet the dark void that was his unstable heart was beating at a quickened, unsteady rate . His fingers were twitching, his muscles were failing. There was a bit of sweat on his brow bone as his lips quivered ever so slightly.

"Looks like they're your nightmares."

And then they all smiled toothily at him, baring their pretty pearly whites at him. They all stared at him with a laughing glint in their eyes—they felt pleasure when he was ghosted away by the maleficent nightmares. Their childish tittering became symphonic cackling, one that was so loud that it ripped across the sky like a strike of lightning.

...

He woke up, in cold sweat.

Pitch wheezed and coughed as he gripped his arms, still shaking from the violent emotions that were bottled up inside. Breathing in and out, he grasped his neck to stabilize his breathing before weakly standing up. The spirit took a couple of feeble steps until he stumbled forward, his arm against the stone wall to support himself.

It had been some time since he had been sent underground. Even if he had the ability to mark how many days since his defeat, he wouldn't have done it anyway. The memories were fresh and they burned into his mind when he was awake. Cruel and relentless, those memories would transform into nightmares to poison his sleep. It was a vicious, never-ending cycle of agony and shame.

"Damn them all to Hell." He growled as he curled his pallid hands into a fist. Pitch pressed his lips together as he stared at the darkness that was his home.

Hung, high and low were large and intricately made iron cages that had once imprisoned those little pesky hummingbird fairies. Sometimes, with the right angle from the wind, the chains would rattle and make a sound reminiscent to the chattering of teeth.

The single ray of light was the only color to the otherwise black and white color scheme of his apparent prison. The light bended the darkness so powerfully that the shadows had to flee to the furthest corner, where it huddled tightly in clumps. His only friend was the quiet and chilling ambience that served as neither a friend nor a foe.

How he _hated_ the silence.

It gave provided him too much time to think, too much time to remember, too much time to dwell and inflict self-pity on his miserable state. Pitch seethed as he paced around near a patch of light. He hadn't gone up in some time. Granted, he wasn't sealed underground. No, he was _safe_ underground and outside was just a dangerous extension of his prison. There was barely anything left of his powers yet even if there was still an ounce of magic in him, he hadn't tried it out yet. Though If he were to step outside in this weak and sorry state, anything could happen to him and he didn't want to risk anymore pain.

But his soul was plagued with blind rage. Every molecule that made up his spirit screamed to tear those guardians apart, bit by bit. He wanted their existence to become null just as how the shadows disappear under the light. Then the room became tense. There was a heavy feeling that alerted him of another presence—a darker, stronger presence.

He stood straight up, eyes glancing from side to side as he readied to take precautions. Though he was weak, he had confidence that he could fend for himself. Whatever it was, though, it would be an awful bully to get him at this stage. Perhaps there _were_ creatures that were far more evil than he.

"_Pitch…"_

He tensed up and then turned around. His breath hastened as he glanced around to locate the origin of that voice. It was an unfamiliar voice, and ethereal and feminine voice that echoed through what sounded like a vocal haze. His hands spread, loosening as the phalanges twitched irritably with fear.

"_Pitch… come find me."_

"Who are you? Show yourself!" Pitch demanded in an abrasive tone, his voice reverberating as it bounced off every surface through the darkness. "Answer!"

He felt that weakness in his heart again. Was he going crazy? Pitch swallowed as his sunken eyes scanned the periphery for anything unusual. "I'm warning you…"

Whatever it was, it let out a heavenly chuckle, as sweet as a child's titter, as pleasant as the chime of a bell. _"Come find me… Pitch. I will… make you dream again."_

Dumbfounded by this offer, Pitch stood still on his place. He didn't budge until a slow moving pink cloud appeared from the darkness. His eyes squinted at the sight of the lurid pink color in the black canvas of his den. Without thinking, he reached out his hand towards this haze. The color feigned warmness; it actually felt as cold as ice. It felt as if a thousand of tiny icicles were pressing down on his flesh. Though he grunted and struggled to free himself from the invisible grip, he could not break free. Slowly, it pried his palms open with an unshakable force.

In the middle of his palm, there was a slow growing white light that forced Pitch to fixate on it. The light intensified as it shape shifted into the form an odd but familiar looking object. After the frigid pink haze dispersed in an unnatural gust, what was left on upon its wake a single crimson red apple.

"An apple." Pitch stated as if he felt his intelligence diminish. "An apple? You don't do this to me, whoever you are, without explaining yourself!"

"_Find—her." _It began, the voice faltering as it became weaker. _"Find Eve and give it to her. Give it—promise me."_

And then it was gone.

Pitch stood there on the edge of darkness in front of the peering light with an apple in his hand and a strange promise to fulfill. Eve? He did not know anybody that had that name, nor had he cared. The dark spirit scrutinized the perfection that was instilled in the form of an apple. Although it appeared innocuous, there was a poisonous secret that draped upon the shadows of the apple.

Pitch gave the entrance to the surface one look as he rubbed the smooth surface of the apple with his thumb. If there was anything Pitch was good at, it was finding people.

And he was going to find out who and where 'Eve' is and who and why this mysterious force had sent him this task.


End file.
